Quest for the Horn
by lickitysplit
Summary: “That is the greatest and most sacred treasure of Narnia. Many terrors I endured, many spells did I utter, to find it." This is the story of Doctor Cornelius' quest to find the horn of Queen Susan. Pre-Prince Caspian. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

"_Please Doctor," said Caspian one day, "who lived in Narnia before we all came here out of Telmar?"_

"_No men—or very few—lived in Narnia before the Telmarines took it," said Doctor Cornelius._

"_Then who did my great-great-grandcesters conquer?"_

"_I said there were very few _men _in Narnia."_

_1_

Cornelius slung his pack over his shoulder and began walking down the narrow path that led from his home. He looked back only once, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother, perhaps waving to him in a tearful good-bye. There was no one there, however, and although it stung Cornelius' heart to admit it, he hadn't really expected it anyway. His mother had made it known full well her thoughts on his journey, and the pledge he had made to himself when his father had died.

"I am sorry, Mother," he said to himself. "I know it is against your wishes to go on this journey. But I must do what I can." He hoped that somehow this thought reached her even now. He did not look back; indeed, he never saw the little house, or his mother, again.

_2_

The evening was unusually chilly, and Cornelius crouched down in front of his little fire. The breeze ruffled his cloak around him. He strained his ears, trying to hear some sound, some clue that he was going in the right direction. Yet as always, the forest remained completely, and stubbornly, silent.

"Where are you?" he whispered. He leaned against an ash tree, setting his pack beside him, and gazed up through the branches to the darkening sky above. The leaves were just starting to sprout, little specks of green that danced in the breeze. He closed his eyes and imagined what the dryad who lived in this tree would have looked like. A young man, perhaps, with thin arms and legs, and curly hair that stood on end? Or a woman, with long bushy hair and delicate fingers?

It had been a month since he left home, and had nothing as of yet to show for his travels. Signs of Old Narnia, if they even existed, eluded him. He walked every day, examining tracks in the ground and markings on trees, looking for anything that may have been made by something other than an animal. Unfortunately for Cornelius, he had no idea what he was looking for at all. How could one find a trace of a Faun, if one had not been seen in a thousand years? How could one identify the track of a Talking Animal, if they were all dead, as the Telmarines believed?

But Cornelius did not believe this to be so. His own father was a Dwarf, a creature that was supposedly legend. He was tall enough to pass as a Man, and he did successfully for most of his life. Yet he still bore many of the traits of the Dwarfs: a long, wild beard; a stout, strong build; an uncanny ability with the hammer and iron. And his secret, which he had kept hidden from everyone, he revealed to his son on his deathbed.

"Old Narnia is alive," the Dwarf had whispered as Cornelius wiped his brow. He shivered with the fever, but his eyes were clear. In this way, Cornelius knew that he was speaking the truth, and not a phantom brought on by the sickness. "It is _alive_. Your kinsfolk are out there, my son: in the forests, and the mountains, hiding, secret, remembering the old ways. Listen for the drums. Watch for the lights. You will find them, and so find the hope for Narnia."

Cornelius closed his eyes. When he had told his mother of this, she gripped his arm so tightly that the marks from her fingers could be seen for days. "Forget all this," she had warned him. "There is nothing out there but trees and rocks. Forget what he told you. There is nothing."

The words of his father had stayed with him, and Cornelius had spent many hours studying, reading, learning everything he could, searching for any word or line that would confirm or deny. What he found was the repression of the Telmarines. The history of Narnia began with Caspian I. No other truth existed. Yet Caspian I was named Caspian the Conqueror. Who was it that he overthrew for the right to rule the land?

There was one choice left: for Cornelius to follow his heart, and his heart told him to go into the forest.

_3_

On the fortieth day of his travels, Cornelius happened upon a little clearing, and in the middle was a giant bush. Cornelius walked around it, and was nearly to the other side of the clearing, when there came a clattering noise from behind. He whipped around at the sound and hurried towards it. Only when he was upon the bush did he realize that it was, in fact, a little hut. There was an entrance, hidden among the vines, no more than a small hole. Luckily Cornelius was smaller than a regular Man, and managed to squeeze his way inside. 

There was a figure on the floor, curled into a ball, and at first glanced it seemed to be nothing more than a pile of rags. But then it moaned, and Cornelius was at its side in an instant. Once it was stood upright, he saw that it was a woman. A woman, yes: but the oldest woman he had ever seen. Her skin was so gnarled and wrinkled that her eyes were nothing more than mere slits; her hair was gray and stringy and grew in tufts on her head; her hands were curled and covered in spots. He wrenched his eyes away from the horrible sight of her and quickly said, "Are you all right?"

Her voice scratched as though it would slice her own throat. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Cornelius took a step backwards. "I heard a noise, and discovered your hut—I'm very sorry—" At a loss for words, he turned to go.

"Are you a Telmarine?" she croaked. "You are dressed like one, that's for certain. But there is something else—something I haven't seen—" She hobbled forward and pulled on Cornelius' beard, pulling his face on level with her own. They stood like this for a moment before her lips pulled back in a sneer. "Dwarf!" she spat at him. "Filthy dwarf! I told you never to come here!"

Cornelius pulled back, and winced when she did not let go. "You must have me mistaken, madam. I've never been here before."

"I told you Dwarfs never to come here!" She let go of him suddenly, causing him to stumble, and with a speed he would have thought her incapable she had a twisted knife at his throat. "We had an agreement. You cannot steal my secrets!"

He backed away slowly, knocking over a stool. "How—how did you know?" he stuttered. Afraid, Cornelius went to leave. But as he turned, she was on him in an instant, clawing and scratching and screeching. He screamed at her to let go, and there was a terrible struggle as he tried to pry her off. 

Her fingernails dug into his skin, and Cornelius cried out with the burning pain. He clawed at her wildly, desperately trying to pull her fingers away. Finally he threw her to the ground. There was a crunching sound, and the woman lay still.

Cornelius leaned against the table, breathing heavily. Then, to his horror, the woman's body began to smoke, and within seconds was nothing but a charred mark on the floor.

"What sorcery is this!" he exclaimed. He continued watching the spot, trying to control his breathing. When his pulse returned to normal, he crept closer. "She must have been some kind of ghoul, or a hag. How terrible!" He shuddered at the thought.

Then another thought struck him. If this thing was such a creature—one right out of story—then surely he must be on the right path! But his thoughts were cut short as he realized he was bleeding from the scratches on his shoulders and chest. He began to search the hut, being careful not to touch the mark on the floor, looking for something he could use to clean himself. Everything was covered in a thick coating of dirt and grime, and he found it difficult to see in the dim light. 

He finally came across a chest, and when he opened it, there was a beautiful silk cloth inside. He picked it up slowly. A book fell out and hit the floor. Cornelius quickly gathered it up and left the hut. He thought that he might set fire to it, and therefore burn away whatever evil she may have been brewing, but was afraid of attracting anymore unpleasantness to himself. Instead, he ran as quickly as he could back into the forest. He did not want to make camp for the night anywhere near the place.

_4_

Still unnerved from his encounter, Cornelius built up the fire especially high that night. Then he sat as close as he possibly could and brought out the book.

It was bound in leather, and had marks burned into the cover. He ran his hand over them, wondering what they meant. Then he opened it.

"Why, it's a spell book!" he exclaimed. A spell book it was. It contained instructions for conjuring spirits, speaking to the dead, night vision, calling forth rain, finding lost items. It went on and on, in no discernible order, each incantation more incredible than the last.

Cornelius closed the book and thought for a long moment. He dared not try any of the spells at night. Best to wait until daylight. He slipped it back into his pack and lay down, staring into the fire. For the first time, he felt that he may succeed in his task.

_5_

As Cornelius walked, he heard voices nearby. He crept closer and peered through the brush. There were three soldiers standing together, passing around a flask. Their helms and swords showed that they were part of the king's army. Cornelius crouched behind a tree to listen.

"Did you hear something?" one hissed. Cornelius kept himself very still.

"You are imagining things!" laughed another. "It was just a squirrel, or a rabbit."

"I hate these woods," moaned the first. "They are filled with ghosts and spirits, and all manner of unnatural creatures."

"Unnatural creatures?" said the third.

"Yes," the soldier whispered. "Animals that can talk, and men who have the body of horses. There are evil things as well, beasts with horns and witches that can kill you with a glance."

The other two laughed. "Those are stories that mothers tell their children to make them behave. You shouldn't believe such things! And you a soldier in service to King Miraz! If the king ever heard that you spoke of them—" 

"It is not Miraz that I fear," he insisted. "It is the spirits of the old Narnian kings." He looked around with wide eyes, as if he expected the kings to appear any moment. "It is said they live here, among the trees. The trees were their subjects, did you know that? They could walk freely among the land, and would strike fear in the hearts of their enemies. The kings ruled the trees, and the animals, and drove the evil witches from the world."

More laughter. "Do not laugh! It's true. My grandfather told me all about it. And do you know what else?" He leaned in close. "They worshipped a great Cat, who had fur the shade of the sun and claws that could rend stone and iron. They called it a Lion."

"A lion!" the third huffed. "There en't any lions in the world. Never have been, never will. Enough of this nonsense. We need to get back to the squad." The others grumbled, but they began to move on. Cornelius remained still next to the tree, hardly daring to breathe.

_6_

Cornelius sat bolt upright, wide awake. He had been dreaming of the Dwarfs, and their drums. The sound had terrified him, enthralled him, made him want to weep in fear and joy. His mind was clear despite the late hour and the deep slumber from which he had just awoken. He looked over at the fire, now dying, and threw a few branches on top.

Then, in the distance, came a thud. Cornelius held his breath. He waited in absolute silence, listening. Just when he thought it must have been only an echo from his dream, it came again. And again.

It was the drums, the drums from his dream! The sound seemed to grip his very heart. He leapt up at once and quickly muttered a few words. Instantly a small light appeared ahead of him, illuminating the forest. In the two weeks since he had found the book, Cornelius had been practicing many of the spells. He could now conjure light, and turn water boiling without flame, and move small rocks and twigs through the air.

Grabbing his pack, he took off in the direction of the sounds, the magic light keeping him from stumbling and falling. Soon he was sweating, his heart pounding, as he ran faster than he ever had before. Occasionally he would pause to listen again, and when the thud of the drum would sound, he would adjust his direction and continue on.

The drums grew louder, until Cornelius was certain they were just over the next hill. He whispered another word and the light went out. Silently, carefully, he crept along the forest, feeling his way in the darkness. Yes! There they were, the drums, the source of the sound. Had he finally found them? Had he found the Dwarfs, whom he had been searching for all these weeks?

Closer and closer he drew. There were no other sounds, no footsteps, no voices, only the thud of the drums. 

When he was finally only a few steps away, the drums stopped. Cornelius froze, waiting to hear the sound again, the sound of anything. A minute slipped by. Then another. Silence.

"No!" he cried, and crashed through the trees. There was nothing there. No Dwarfs, no drums, not even a footprint. 


	2. Chapter 2

"_Listen," said the Doctor. "All you have heard about Old Narnia is true. It is not the land of men. It is the country of Aslan, the country of the Waking Trees and Visible Naiads, of Fauns and Satyrs, of Dwarfs and Giants, of the gods and the Centaurs, of the Talking Beasts."_

_1_

Cornelius leafed through the pages of the spell book. He had searched for signs of Dwarfs, but could not find even the smallest clue. He ignored his fears that the drums were all in his imagination.

Now he searched for an answer, some spell he could use to find them. He refused to accept the thought that it was not real. His father had told him to listen for drums. He had told Cornelius that the Dwarfs still lived. Cornelius held onto that truth desperately.

Finally he happened upon a page that read, "To See What Is Unseen". He scanned through the instructions of the spell. It seemed far more complicated than the ones he had tried before.

Cornelius slowly whispered the strange words of the spells to himself. When it was finished, he was scared to look up from the book, afraid of what he might see. A strong breeze began to blow. Some dirt flew into his eyes, and Cornelius dropped the book, rubbing his eyes fiercely, tears squeezing down his cheeks.

Blinking, he finally opened them, and gasped. The forest was at once exactly the same, and yet very different. He squinted a bit and stared at an oak tree directly in front of him. It looked like any other oak tree, but there was something about it that made it seem—well, seem alive. He could almost see the heartbeat of the tree, and when he placed a trembling hand against it, he could feel the rhythm as well.

Captivated, Cornelius had no knowledge of how long he stood against the tree. Eventually he pulled himself away, and stepped to another tree, then another, seeing the life inside, feeling it, yet knowing that it was in a deep, deep slumber. He wandered through the forest, no direction in mind, no sound at all except the thud of his own heart.

Cornelius abruptly stopped. There, in a line, were a dozen felled trees, with nothing but trunks remaining. A strangled cry erupted from his throat. Instantly he thought of his father on his deathbed. Cornelius knew exactly what death looked like.

Slowly he crept toward the line, pleading with himself to stop, but finding himself unable. He knelt down before one trunk and placed a hand on it.

There was no beat, no feeling, nothing. And that, this utter silence, was the most terrifying of all, more than the witch in the woods, more than the soldiers, more than the thudding drums.

_2_

Cornelius could smell the village before he saw it. And it was the smell of food that he caught first: cooking meat, bubbling gravies, sweet and sticky oranges. Before he even realized it, he had turned and was following his nose right to the village gate. He had sworn not to deviate from his plan and his trek through the forest until he found what he was seeking, but his stomach, which had gone two months on meager meals of roots and dried meat, had other ideas.

He gave another name to the guard at the village gate, and accepted directions to the inn. Cornelius clutched his cloak tightly around himself. It was a strange thing, going from the solitude of the forest to a bustling, busy town. He felt a little nervous, almost afraid.

The inn was pleasant enough. He ordered a room and food, and checked his pockets for coins. He had only a few, and decided to search the book for a spell to change stones or something else into gold. Then Cornelius remembered that he had dropped the spell book in the forest. The death of the trees had left him in such a daze that he had forgotten to go back for it.

Cornelius kept his goblet close to himself and sipped from it cautiously, his eyes darting around the room to the handful of other customers. He pulled his hood down over his eyes, and only nodded when the girl brought over his bowl.

He continued to look around at everyone as he ate, trying to remain invisible. Across the room, at another table, a young woman was watching him closely. He tried to ignore her, but she stood and made her way over to his table. He did not acknowledge her when she reached his table. To his surprise, she sat down next to him and pulled his hood back. "Everything all right?" she asked. Her smile was positively brilliant. Cornelius simply gaped at her.

She leaned in and whispered to him, "My name is Shay. I think you may need some help. I can help you. They are coming soon." She stood back and winked at him, and then left. Cornelius watched her disappear out the door, his food forgotten.

_3_

Shay proved to be an interesting companion. She never revealed anything about herself. Instead, she told Cornelius about Narnia—not the Narnia that the Telmarines ruled, but the Narnia of old.

She told him about King Frank, who was a human just like the Telmarines, but much kinder and nobler, who ruled Narnia when it began.

She told him of the Talking Animals, who were larger and smarter than the dumb beasts Cornelius knew, who cared for and defended the land out of love for their kings and queens, instead of fear like the Telmarines.

She told him of the Fauns and the Centaurs and the Satyrs and the Minotaurs and the Giants, who filled Narnia with magic and song and beauty, until Cornelius so longed to hear their voices that his heart ached terribly.

She told him of the Naiads and the Dryads, who brought life to Narnia's forests and waters, who were mysterious and powerful and the heartbeat of Narnia. They were all sleeping now, she told him, until Narnia was delivered, and that is why Narnia felt cold and empty and strange. Cornelius thought of the silent trees, and his heart sank at the memory.

He asked her what she knew of the Dwarfs, and she said they were loyal, and brave, and the most like Men than any other of the Narnian races. And like the others, they had disappeared into the deep places of Narnia long ago.

Then she told him of Aslan, the Great Lion. He was the Creator, the Deliverer, the King above Kings, and it was through him that Narnia flourished and lived. His claws could kill or cure, his breath was the breath of life, his mane brought the sun, and his voice was the beginning and end of all things. Cornelius closed his eyes when she spoke of Aslan, unable to picture such a creature, but so overwhelmed by the thought that they sat in a long silence when she was done.

"But Shay," he said finally, "where is Aslan now?"

"Gone," she replied, "to his father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. When he returns, Narnia will be restored."

"Have you ever seen him?"

"No," she sighed sadly.

"Then how do you know?" Cornelius leaned into her. "How do you know he will return? How do you know he even remembers us?"

Shay gave a small smile. "He always returns. He did before." She told him of a Witch, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, who defeated the last king of Frank's line and ruled Narnia with an unending winter. "Just like the Telmarines," Cornelius muttered, "although their winter is inside our hearts."

Nodding, Shay went on, "There were two kings and two queens then, who Aslan himself crowned to rule Narnia." She told him their names, and the story of how they appeared in the woods, and how they brought Narnia to a true Golden Age.

"Is that who Caspian the First conquered?" Cornelius asked.

"No," she answered. "They disappeared before the Telmarines came. One day—they were just gone, like Aslan." She sighed again. "If they had been here, things may have been very different."

There was another long silence before Cornelius asked, "How do you know all this?"

She did not answer.

_4_

Cornelius was having a difficult time falling asleep, still unused to the soft bed after sleeping on the ground. Finally, he drifted into a sleep troubled with strange dreams. He was back at the witch's hut. His mother was inside, and he needed to speak with her desperately. He knocked loudly on the door, but no answer came. He knocked until his hand was sore.

Cornelius opened his eyes and discovered the knocking was real. He stumbled out of bed and to the door. He opened it just a crack, but Shay pushed quickly inside. "What are you doing?" she asked. "You are not dressed. Hurry, please."

Her voice was an urgent whisper, and the look on her face made him move quickly and scramble into his tunic. Shay went to the window and looked outside. "There isn't much time," she said after a moment.

"Time for what?" he whispered back. But she simply shook her head and gestured for him to follow. They crept through the common room together and slipped through the front door. Cornelius followed her down the main road, out of the village, and back towards the forest. "Where are we going?" he said, but she hissed for him to be quiet. They moved together like shadows, making no noise. Once or twice Shay would stop, and study the sky, and then move on again.

Cornelius began to nod as he walked. They walked for what seemed hours and hours, until Cornelius was nearly asleep on his feet, and he was simply following her soft footsteps, not even watching where they were going. Finally she stopped and gripped his arm. Cornelius blinked and looked at her.

"You must be very quiet," she breathed, barely a whisper. "If they hear us—"

"Where are we?" he whispered back.

Shay looked up at the sky again, and Cornelius followed her gaze, wondering what it was that she saw. "Do you know what today is?" she asked. Cornelius thought a moment, and tried to calculate in his mind. But the days in the forest had begun to blend together, and he realized he was unsure of the date. He shook his head, and she continued, "It is Midsummer's Eve. The Telmarines do not acknowledge such things. But tomorrow is a day that all of Old Narnia celebrated. And tonight, the Fauns will welcome the Midsummer with a dance."

"Old Narnia?" His breath caught. "The Fauns? Here?"

She did not respond. He followed her though the trees, which were overgrown and thick, but her hair shined so brightly in the moonlight she was easy to follow. They stopped behind a slim willow tree, and the two crouched low. "Do you hear them?" she whispered.

Cornelius listened. He heard the breeze rustling the leaves. He heard the call of one cricket to another. He heard an animal moving nearby, a raccoon perhaps. He strained even more, and heard an owl hooting much further off. But there were no sounds of dancing, or music, or voices, or anything else.

He looked at Shay and slowly shook his head. "Can you hear them?" he asked. She did not answer; instead, she stood to leave. Cornelius grabbed her arms tightly and brought her inches from his face. "Why did you bring me here?" he hissed. "Who are you?" He shook her when she did not answer. "How did you know I was searching for them?"

"I—I read it," she gasped. "I read in the stars that you were coming. They still speak to me; some do at least, even though I am here now. They said you would come to the village."

His grip relaxed some, although he did not release her. "Are there really Fauns nearby?"

Shay's eyes were wide and wild. Looking at her now, he wondered how he had ever thought she was a normal girl. "The magic protects them. I can hear them. I wanted you to hear them too, so you would know Old Narnia is waiting. You have something to do."

Cornelius was not listening to her. He let her go and looked around wildly, turning in every direction. There was a noise to the side, voices in the wood, and he sprinted toward the sound, Shay following behind, shouting at him to stop. "No!" she cried, grabbing at him. He tore away from her, knocking her back.

It was only when Cornelius stumbled into a small clearing that he realized his mistake. The voices he had heard were not those of celebrating Fauns, but Telmarine soldiers. They were on him in an instant, and Cornelius was pushed to the ground, his hands forced behind his back. He could hear Shay screaming behind him, and when he tried to turn and see her, one soldier knocked him on the side of the head.

He was pulled to a standing position. The sudden movement, combined with the blow, made the world tilt to one side. One Telmarine, the captain he assumed, stepped up to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Please—we haven't done anything—"

"There are thieves in these woods. We have been tracking them for many nights." Cornelius met the captain's eye, and knew at once he was lying. "We aren't thieves," Cornelius replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

The captain gave a smile that filled Cornelius with a fresh wave of fear. "If you are not thieves, then why are you in my woods?'

Cornelius thought frantically for an answer, but before he could, Shay's voice came from behind him. She was shouting something, something he didn't understand, and then she screamed again. Cornelius twisted against the men holding him, trying to see what was happening.

Then a cry went up among the soldiers. There was a great deal of confusion, as if everyone was moving at once, and the sound of the wailing wind over all. Cornelius was knocked to the ground again, and he covered his face to keep from being trampled. A soldier's boot kicked him in the head, and Cornelius saw stars for a moment before all went black.

_5_

The noises of the birds woke him. Cornelius sat up and winced. He raised one hand to touch his temple gingerly, and was relieved to feel that it had stopped bleeding. The sunlight hurt his eyes. He slowly looked around, wondering what happened.

He caught sight of someone lying on the ground close by, and instantly he remembered what had happened. He crawled over to Shay and peered at her anxiously. Taking her hand, he said softly, "Shay? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes opened. Cornelius could see the pain in her gaze, and he gasped when he looked down. An ugly wound tore through her side. Her dress was drenched in blood.

Cornelius had to lean closely to hear her words. "Narnia is waiting for you." Her voice sounded fragile, like the petals of a flower, soft and able to be crushed at any moment. "The stars have told me. You must find the queen's horn."

"What horn?" he asked, his voice breaking. "What queen? What do I need to do?" he pressed.

But Shay just laid back and did not answer. After a moment, she said, "Did you know that the stars can die? When they get old, or hurt . . . Stars live ages upon ages, but in the end, even they cannot last forever."

Shay went very still. Cornelius whispered her name. When she didn't answer, he put her hand gently on the ground

With one last glance, he stood as best he could and walked away. He thought of returning to the village, but then he realized that he didn't know the way. So he continued walking, wandering until he found a little stream. Then he knelt and washed his face, crying as he saw the water turn red with his own blood. He sat there for a long time, shaking, and when a great flash of light came from the direction of the clearing, he did not turn around.


	3. Chapter 3

"_That," said Doctor Cornelius, "is the greatest and most sacred treasure of Narnia. Many terrors I endured, many spells did I utter, to find it, when I was still young. It is the magic horn of Queen Susan herself which she left behind her when she vanished from Narnia at the end of the Golden Age."_

_1_

Cornelius sat by the side of the stream for three days.

On the first day, he did nothing but listen. He listened to the stream and the trees; he listened to the birds and the animals; he listened to the wind and the sky. That night, he dreamt of the forest. In his dream, he heard whispers around him, so he went from tree to tree, one blade of grass to another, every rock and brook and twig and flower, listening; but he never found the source of those whispers.

On the second day, Cornelius awoke with the dawn. After eating a few berries and taking a long drink from the stream, he pulled out a little book from his pouch and began to write. He wrote everything that had happened to him on his travels, describing the witch, and the stories the soldiers told each other, and the spells he could remember from the book. He wrote everything Shay had told him, about the Talking Animals and the human kings and queens and the White Witch and Aslan, always about Aslan. He also wrote about the new king Miraz, who had been crowned a few months before Cornelius had set out on his travels. He wrote about the rumors that only a few dared to whisper that his pledges of caring only for Narnia and his orphaned nephew were nothing but lies. When the sun began to set, his hand ached, so he set aside his book and lay down to wait for the stars.

That night, he tried to read them as Shay had, but he could not find their secrets. He picked out a few familiar constellations, and pledged to himself to study all he could of Astronomy when he was finished his quest. When he finally closed his eyes and slept, he dreamt of Narnia the way it was. He saw the two kings and two queens (just children, Shay had told him), and the Fauns and Centaurs and Dryads and Giants at court, and the Talking Animals bustling about the kingdom. He dreamt of their last great hunt, when they disappeared from Narnia forever.

On the third day, Cornelius pulled out a map of Narnia. He traced his finger from Telmar, in the West, to the castle built during the reign of Caspian II, which Miraz now occupied on behalf of his nephew. His eyes moved over the strongholds built around Narnia for its protection, one outpost after another. All of it Telmarine, all of it man-made, and all of it utterly foreign.

Then he pored over the mountain ridges, and the twisting rivers, and the boundaries of the forest. It was inside these, he knew, that the secrets of Narnia lived. But where to start looking? Where? He could not continue walking aimlessly through the forest. Old Narnia was too good at hiding for him to find it by chance. There must be somewhere to look.

Shay had told him of the two kings and two queens, who lived in a castle next to the sea. He followed along the shoreline with his finger, and stopped on a small island just off the coast. It was haunted, or at least most people believed that. There were no traces on the Narnian coast of an old castle, but could it have been on this island? Cornelius did not know if it was haunted or not, but he doubted there was a nation of Narnians living there. How could so many survive on one small island and never be seen? However, the island might be the best place to start looking for signs of Aslan, if he had truly gone to this father over the sea.

Cornelius then wondered where the kings and queens might have disappeared. They had come from the West, near the very edge of Narnia, in the Western Wood. There was a section of the forest that was uncharted, north of where the Telmarines had entered Narnia. Could Old Narnia have retreated here? Cornelius folded his map. It was in this unknown part of the forest that he would search.

_2_

Cornelius walked for days and days. The wood became wilder and wilder, so much so that sometimes it would take Cornelius a day or two just to find a path that was manageable. He began to wonder if he would spot a Talking Animal, or perhaps a Faun or a Satyr, so deep in the woods. He never heard a sound or saw a sign of them.

However, this did not deter him. Cornelius was sure in his new plan. He walked through the woods beginning at daybreak, only stopping for a quick meal and a sip of water. Sometimes he would sing to himself. Sometimes he would imagine himself a part of the hunting party accompanying the kings and queens, dressed in his finest, knowing that a great feast would welcome them when they returned to the castle. And sometimes he would just listen to the forest, pretending he could hear the voices of the Dryads, and he would talk to the trees and the brooks when he stopped to rest.

Every night, Cornelius would stretch out on the ground, looking up at the stars. Once in a while he would record the pictures the stars made in his little book. Most of the time, however, he would just stare up at them, trying to find patterns and messages as Shay had done. He wished over and over he knew more about reading them. One night, there was a star shower, and he stared in wonder as the stars shot across the sky, racing one another to some unknown finish line. He took this as a sign that he was going in the right direction.

_3_

One morning the sun did not appear. Dark, dangerous clouds filled the sky, turning it a deep gray color. Cornelius pulled his cloak tightly around himself and hurried to cover as much ground as possible before the storm broke and forced him to take refuge somewhere.

The rain started slowly, just a few fat drops here and there, as if the clouds were about to overspill. Cornelius spotted a rocky section a few yards to the side, and made his way in that direction, hoping to find an overhang. To his luck, there was a crevice in the rocks, and being so short he was able to fit himself easily into the little cave.

And just in time: as soon as he was inside, the sky opened, and the rain began to pour. The wind whipped the drops into a frenzy, and Cornelius backed in as far as he dared to keep from being splashed. The cave was dry enough, but there was a foul smell coming from inside. He figured it must be some poor creature that had crawled inside and died. Cornelius shuddered and huddled against the wall of the cave. Murmuring a few words, he conjured a little fire that made a little heat and cast long shadows on the walls.

Cornelius thought that he must have been dozing when he heard a noise from the rocks. He blinked his eyes and looked towards the mouth. The rain was still a steady sheet outside. Cornelius snuggled back against the cold cave wall and closed his eyes.

The noise came again: a low rumbling, too musical to be thunder, but too deep to be human. Quickly Cornelius whispered a few words, and the fire went out. His eyes darted through the darkness of the cave, listening to the thudding in his chest.

Cornelius had just begun to hope it had been the storm after all when there was a scuffling to his left. Slowly he turned his head towards the sound. There was a pair of eyes looking at him, glowing green like a cat's in the darkness. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt frozen, unable to move.

The rumbling came louder now, longer, and to Cornelius' shock and horror, began to form words. _"Who are you?"_ it said to him. There was another low growl, and then, unmistakable: _"Dwarf."_

Cornelius bolted. In less than a second he was out of the cave, completely soaked, and running blindly through the storm. He could see no more than a few paces in front of himself, but Cornelius did not dare to slow down. He stumbled over rocks and was knocked in the face and arms by low-hanging branches. But it did not matter: Cornelius knew that whatever that had been in the cave, it would have killed him without a moment's hesitation.

There was a great clap of thunder, which gave Cornelius such a jolt that he stumbled and went crashing into the ground. He dared to look over his shoulder, but could see nothing through the rain. But he thought he heard the growl again, so Cornelius scrambled up as best he could and took off running.

He crashed through a line of trees and caught sight of something strange on the ground. He looked over and stopped short when he realized what it was: a little hut, about three feet high.

Cornelius lost his footing on the wet grass and leaves and began to slide. He knocked into something solid and tumbled over, and little rocks fell on top of him. He covered his face with his arms to shield himself.

Panting, he laid back on the ground. The rain was still coming down, but he was inside a little ring of trees that served as a natural umbrella. Wiping his brow, he turned his head and saw a squirrel staring back at him.

Startled, he jumped back up. The squirrel did not move. Wondering what kind of creature would stand still in a storm, he leaned in for a closer look. What he saw caused him to gasp: the squirrel was made of stone! He carefully picked it up. It was heavier than it looked, and Cornelius grunted a little with the effort. But when he brought it close to his face, Cornelius' heart skipped a beat. It was more than just a squirrel—it was a squirrel with an expression that could not be mistaken for anything other than sheer terror.

Shaking, Cornelius looked around for the other rocks that had fallen on him. They were squirrels too—some with wide eyes, some with their hands shielding their faces. He could almost hear their squeals coming from their frozen mouths. Cornelius struck his foot against a larger stone, but this one was of a dog or fox, his long tail tucked between his legs and his ears plastered back against his head.

Next to him was a stone man, about Cornelius' height, with the legs of a goat, and long curly hair. The way he was standing made Cornelius think that he must have been just sitting, and was leaping up to face something, or someone.

Turning around again, Cornelius caught sight of one more statue. This was a head shorter than himself, very stout, the hairs of his beard carved carefully into the stone. His pulse thudded in his ears so loudly he could not even hear the rain any longer. Cornelius sat with a thud in front of the statue and bowed his head. Too terrified to move, he sat among the death, expecting his own to arrive at any moment.

_4_

Cornelius had begun to despair.

For days he walked, constantly looking over his shoulder, worried that the Warewolf (which is what he assumed it had been) had followed him and would leap out at any moment. He was also still thoroughly shaken from finding the petrified Narnians in the forest that even when he closed his eyes, he still saw their frozen faces. Cornelius had not slept in days. He thought of his mother, and his friends, and wondered if he would ever see them again. He thought of his father, and how he had failed him.

Cornelius had never felt so alone. He knew Old Narnia was out there—was surrounding him!—but he could not find it, and it would not reveal itself. Old Narnia did not want him. He did not belong, any more than he belonged in the Telmarine Narnia.

The sun began to set, and Cornelius did not even bother to find a place to camp. He simply sat against a tree, watching the sky grow darker and darker, until the stars came out. Even the stars remained stubbornly silent, refusing to give up their secrets.

As he sat in the darkness and silence, he noticed a flicker in the distance. Thinking it was just a firefly, he ignored it for a while. But then he realized that the firefly was not moving, so he stood and went to investigate.

What he found surprised him: it was a tree made of iron. It was very tall, and slim, and had roots at the bottom that spread out in a perfect square. At the top, instead of branches and leaves, was a small glass case, and inside was a fire that did not flicker.

Cornelius stared up at it for what seemed like hours. He walked around it, examining it closely, running his fingers along the long ridges in the metal. Then he sat in its light, which he thought was very beautiful, until he closed his eyes and slept.

In his dream, he was sitting under the iron tree, and there was a creature standing over him. He could feel the incredible heat from its body and the low rumbling of his chest. He wanted to stay there forever, feeling safe for the first time in its warmth. But it was not to be. The creature was urging him on, into the trees, and Cornelius followed happily.

The trees hung low, and he brushed their branches away from his face. He could just see the creature's golden color slipping among the green. He pushed forward, and suddenly he noticed that the branches felt strange: they were no longer made of sticks and leaves, but of fur and hair.

Cornelius gasped and opened his eyes. He turned around and saw that he was standing inside a thicket a few hundred feet from the iron tree. He breathed deeply, trying to stop the pounding of his heart. He took a step and felt something against his foot.

Cornelius looked down. There was a long, white horn, beautifully curved, lying on the forest floor. Picking it up carefully, he turned it to examine the gold detail, the initials placed on the side in delicate gold foil. Then he cradled it in his arms like a child, closed his eyes, and prayed his thanks to Aslan. His quest was over. He had found Narnia at last.


End file.
